Cadaverous
by Organic Toxidemia
Summary: Rated M for future chapters. Hellsing xover.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing: I am a poor student.

* * *

_You cannot defeat me_

"I know."

As everything she had known ceased to be, withering away into itself, she opened her arms and accepted the truth.

* * *

The night was darker than most, filled with inhuman moans and the hovering stench of blood and death. The priest stood, the pale skin that seemed to barely stretch across the gaunt bones of his face was bathed in blood, a young woman lay off to his side, neck torn and placed at an impossible angle. 

He grinned, dagger like teeth gleaming ruby, "You cannot possibly win," gesturing to the hordes of undead that stood behind him.

The red-clad man in front of him smiled insanely, and opened fire.

Alucard lowered "Joshua", plumes of smoke still rising slowly from its barrel and turned when he felt his master's approach.

"Alucard, I thought I told you to finish it." Adjusting her glasses, Integra deftly lit the small cigar hanging from her mouth, silently watching as the feral grin exposed the barely contained blood lust of her subordinate.

He turned his attention back to the pathetic mimic that stood a few meters away, looking much less confident without his mindless ghouls to control, "With pleasure," Alucard's lips raised even further, revealing more of his sharp white teeth, "as always." His gloved hand, still gripping the handle of his gun, slowly centered on the vampire-priests' head.

"Wait, stop!" terrified eyes locked on Integra, "Please! You wouldn't shoot a man of the cloth," nervously grinning, he outstretched his long, angular hands, "would you?" the last words seemed to tremble as he fell on his knees.

Integra's face contorted into disgust, "Kill him." She turned to leave, as she heard Alucard's dark chuckle, when she heard movement from the pile of ghouls to her left.

"Alucard."

Drawing his attention, he cocked his head at her as he pulled the trigger, not needing to see to know that the priest's head was now missing, and that his body dissolved into a pile of desolate ash, gradually blowing away in the breeze.

She motioned to the mound of bloody, mutilated bodies of what used to be unchaste civilians, laying sprawled atop one another, having fallen to the guns of her men, and her guardian.

Again, there was movement.

Smirking, Alucard strolled over to the bodies, and, hearing that it came from below the lifeless form of a middle aged woman missing her bottom half, he kicked it aside. "Getting more resilient, are we?"

Expecting a sudden attack from a mindless corpse, his finger paused on the trigger when he saw that the noise was coming from the form of what looked to be a young man missing his head. Curious, now seeing that it lay still, and knowing a ghoul could not survive without its head, he crouched beside it, hearing the faint sound of tearing from what seemed to be the stomach.

"What could this be?" Integra, having drawn her own pistol, now stood beside him, watching intently as the stomach moved.

Having no answer, he placed his hand in front of Integra and lightly pushed her backward when something tore through the corpse's skin. Raising an eyebrow as a small, blood covered digit emerged, he also took a step back, "Well this is new."

"A new freak somehow evolved?" she muttered, brows furrowed and teeth clenched tightly over her cigar.

Another finger, and another, then a full, small hand ripped through the stomach, covered in pieces of inward flesh, stained pure red. The arm emerged, and was soon joined by its partner.

The cigar dropped to the ground, unnoticed by either one, as these arms groped and stretched, and tore through skin and bloody, rotten innards, finally feeling ground. Fingers bent at awkward angles, the hands dug into the soil, tearing nails as they seemed to pull, gradually revealing a small, dark head stained in clogs of life-blood. The sound was horrible, a sucking, squishing sound that held testament that this thing was indeed wreaking havoc upon the already mutilated body of the boy.

The head surfaced, revealing a mouth wide open and sucking in air, gurgling through tissue and liquid.

While Alucard was watching in morbid fascination, his gun resting at his side, Integral's pistol remained trained on the demonic figure, hand shaking slightly, mind racing at the implications this could mean to Hellsing. Whatever it was, it needed to be studied carefully.

"Do not shoot it," she said softly, "I want to know what it is."

He showed no sign of recognition, but was indeed excited that something new, perhaps something challenging, was evolving.

It was small, like a child. It had no breasts that they could see, and as it gave a final, silent pull, the torso of the corpse split in two with a resounding _sshhllrrkk_ and the thing seemed to slide out over the remainder of the intestines and stomach, laying motionless on the ground.

Alucard stepped forward to roll it over when it gave a sudden jerk, and painstakingly rose onto its knees, slipping on the blood soaked grass.

Integra's hand slipped to her radio, "Fargason, get over here with some kind of restraints." She had tried to say it softly -- eyes never leaving the small form a few feet in front of her -- but it was quiet that night, and she suddenly found herself looking into a pair of dull, pale blue eyes. It was such a contrast to the dripping body suit of crimson and black that she had to bite back a gasp.

"It's female." Alucard's voice was unchanged, but he no longer wore his grin, rather, he looked slightly put out. "I sense no power at all."

It continued to stare at Integra, then cocked its head to the side and seemed to consider Alucard, completely silent and emotionless.

Taking this opportunity of distraction to examine it – from a distance – her brows furrowed as her hand rose to grasp her chin in thought, "It doesn't seem to have any freak tendencies or characteristics so far," she turned, he seemed to be locked in a staring contest with the thing, all signs of his usual sarcastic, violent self gone, "for one, it isn't attacking _you_."

"I've noticed."

"Sir!" Commander Fargason rounded the corner of trees, his men trailing behind, carrying a large, steel box they had used for transporting dangerous ammunition.

Scared the noise would startle it, she motioned for silence, but was surprised when the only thing it did was break eye contact with Alucard and examine the new comers tamely.

* * *

She watched them, these people that eyed her with disgust and acute suspicion, almost feeling their desire to kill her. _Let them_. _I'll only return_. She could feel the ground beneath her, the sodden grass littered with gore, she could feel it beneath her torn fingernails, in between her toes, but strangely, she did not care. 

She had not known what to expect after accepting the pit of hell into her being, succumbing to the undeniable truth that it was the only way. Why was she not appalled that she had been born into this world through a corpse? That she had awoken into smothering warmth and stench, and had to claw her way through it?

Because she had seen worse. Those moments when she welcomed the darkness into the confines of her body, seemed an eternity. She experienced pain, murder, rape…all the evils that can be grasped by the imagination, but not only through the eyes of the victim, but through the inflictor.

In those moments, she had died.

Everything that she had known, loved, worked for, gone.

_No more light, no more dark_. There was nothing left.

Serena Tsukino was dead.

* * *

This is a little experiment of mine, so I look forward to your opinions, good and bad. 


	2. Chapter 2

Yet again, I do not own Sailor moon or Hellsing.

* * *

Integra sat at her desk, elbows planted, chin resting in her joined hands, and stared forward. She had been sitting like this for hours, dimly aware of Walter coming in to serve, and retrieve her untouched afternoon tea.

She didn't understand -- didn't get it.

Her fist smashed down, spilling a glass of water across the desk's surface, "A _child_? A _HUMAN_ child?!"

* * *

Four hours earlier.

She sat in her makeshift cage, surrounded by nothing but darkness, no light shone through the thick walls of steel. She could hear a continuous stream of conversation outside, but the sound barely penetrated her prison.

_What am I now?_ She lifted her hand, the blood and grit slowly drying against her skin, and peered at it through the darkness. She could not see it, but she knew that it was small, like the rest of her body. It clenched, the pain of her torn nails reminded her that she was alive, no…that she simply existed.

There was movement, and the box shifted. She slid a little to the left, the blood on her body having pooled around her naked sitting form.

_Who am I?_ She knew that once, she had been Serena…but that was gone now, she wasn't the same -- didn't feel the same. She had retained the consciousness, but it was altered, evolved from the fusion of Serena's enemy. She had been born with a new body, it was strange, to feel the different shape of her form, _A new birth…a new body_, touching her face, she felt the rough scrape of dried blood, and running her tongue along her lips, she tasted it. _Who am I?_

* * *

Integra stood in the cold, sterile laboratory watching as six men carried in the large steel box that contained the newest potential threat to Hellsing.

"Set it down over there", she pointed to the corner of the white room, towards a small holding cell designed for observation. It had thick walls of bullet-proof glass, and a large drain at the center of the floor. Trays of surgical equipment lay off to the side, prepared in advance of their arrival, and ready to use.

Integra looked to Fargason, "I want this done quickly and carefully, we still don't know anything about this…"she adjusted her round glasses, "freak."

He nodded, "Affirmative." Fargason looked to the nervous soldiers encircling the box's perimeter, and signaled for them to draw their automatics. Motioning to the three that stood at the front holding long steel poles with loops of wire at the ends, they tentatively moved forwards.

"Any sudden movements and shoot for the limbs, but remember I want it _alive_." Integra stood behind the wall of twelve soldiers-- Alucard having grown bored and retired to his chambers-- and momentarily wondered if they were overestimating the threat of the small creature inside, dismissing the thought as quickly as it appeared, 'Better safe than sorry.' She almost smiled, _how_ _cliché_.

A soldier bearing a camcorder stood off to the side, documenting the process, but still held firmly onto to his handgun, she noted grimly.

Grasping the thick latches, a soldier lifted the metallic bars free of the box, the entrance falling to the floor with a loud crash. There was a moment of silence, then a loud order of "Move!" from Fargason, and the three soldiers holding the poles burst into action.

* * *

Blinded by the sudden flood of artificial light, she had raised her hands to shield her face when she was struck across the head. Caught off guard, she fell to her side, head spinning, trying to open her eyes to the light and focus. Suddenly, her head was jerked painfully to the side when something wrapped around her neck and cut deep into her skin. It was followed by something latching around her right arm, tightening and pulling it back at an awkward angle.

Still dazed and unable to see, she was strangely calm as another blow knocked into her stomach, causing her to involuntarily lean forward and spit up a small amount of blood, the wires at her throat and upper arm cutting deeper. The pain was nothing to her, and as her eyes adjusted to the light, she allowed them to drag her from her cage calmly, a second constraint falling around her neck.

Integra watched as the three soldiers roughly dragged the small, filthy body from its encasement, a trail of blood smeared on the sterile-white tiles as it laid there motionless on it's stomach, head turned to the side, eyes open and void of emotion, staring into nothing. It didn't even flinch when a soldier stepped on the back of its neck heavily, the boot digging into skin.

Another two walked forward and crouched by her feet, which lay still and lifeless, placing their gloved hands on her ankles, putting their full weight into restraining her. The three who held the poles now attached to her body stood alert, expecting some sort of struggle.

"Hold her fast." Fargason nodded toward another soldier, who hesitantly kneeled beside the small form who was now watching him solemnly. Nervously running a hand through his short hair, he reached into his uniform and brought out a syringe. The soldier who held the metallic shaft now attached to her right arm pulled against it, stretching it to the point where she could feel bone grind against bone, then swiftly turned it, breaking her arm and leaving the delicate area between her bicep and forearm open. She winced slightly as she felt the snapping of her small limb, going unnoticed by everyone except for Integra, who was watching intently.

Injecting the needle, the soldier quickly took the blood sample and stepped back, placing it on a nearby tray.

As Walter entered and handed her a small note, Integra's brow furrowed and she promptly turned to Fargason, "Put her in, get the blood sample analyzed, and then report to me." With one last glance at the still figure, she left the near-crowded room, accompanied by her servant.

* * *

Leaning against the cold, impersonal tiles, her arm dangling at her side brokenly, she was once again pitted against the question _Who am I? _

It had been around two hours since they had thrown her into this place. She was surrounded by glass on one side and white tiles on the other, the only things existing in her "cell" were a large oval showerhead and an equal sized drain that rested underneath her foot. The room was only large enough for her to stand and take two steps in any direction, so she was left with nothing but to watch the soldiers whose job it was to watch her.

_What is this place?_ Having had no opportunity to view her surroundings outside of the field wherein she had emerged-- or this very laboratory-- she could only assume she had been captured by a branch of the military. British, she assumed, from the accents she had heard earlier, and headed by that woman they had called "Sir". The woman who had watched her coldly, calculatingly.

"Sir!"

Her head rose to look into those very eyes.

"Wash it down. I want to see what it looks like."

Her voice was muffled by the glass, but she understood at once as she was enveloped in a cascade of freezing water. For the first time, she felt panic. The room outside became blurry, and she was left alone. The water filled her nostrils and mouth, blocking her air intake, and her breathing became irregular as she struggled to block the lower half of her face with her good arm, to no avail.

Bloody water washed into her mouth and lungs, and she gagged, her vision becoming hazy, darkness shrouding the corners of her perception. She began to vomit, her stomach retching against the cascade, as the panic began to overtake her, her eyes wide, stinging from the impact of the water.

And then it stopped. She could feel the water on the rest of her body, but the torrent that had been attacking her head and face had ceased. She watched the pink water being sucked in by the drain over her forearm, and began to suck in the air her lungs desperately needed. Her good arm dropped to support her as she panted -- eyes wide and staring at the floor, the panic slowly subsiding.

Something touched her chin, forcing her head to rise. She looked into a pair of fire-red eyes.

_That man…._ It was the same pair of eyes she had looked into after she had escaped her fleshy prison. Her eyes followed the long nose, falling on the same large, wickedly-crooked smile. He was crouched before her, water falling down his trench coat and wide-brimmed hat.

His hand dropped to his side as her breathing slowly became normal, and she again raised her eyes to look into his, only to see that he had donned a pair of sunglasses, his smile becoming impossibly wide.

It seemed time slowed down, or perhaps it was because of lack of oxygen, but she barely had time to blink before he reached into his coat, withdrew a massive hand gun and shot her in the chest.

* * *

Hey, one problem I need some assistance with. What the hell do I call her? I know you're probably tired of "she she she her her,"'(since I know i'm sure as hell tired of writing it) I just don't know what she'd refer to herself as, since she's technically not serena anymore. I'd appreciate some imaginative suggestions.

O.T.


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